


go home happy

by classicalreader313



Category: The Long Walk - Richard Bachman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, Ballpark AU, Baseball, College, Gen, M/M, Summer, basically the crew working at a ballpark, good ol wholesome fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-01-06 23:24:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18398468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/classicalreader313/pseuds/classicalreader313
Summary: au where the long walkers work at a ballpark in Portland, Maine





	1. Chapter 1

It was May 1st when Ray pulled up to Hadlock Park. After finding a parking space, he put the car into park and killed the engine. He angled the rearview mirror so he could see his reflection. Two brown eyes, his hair neat underneath his baseball cap, and his face freshly shaven. Ray checked his watch. It was 4:00. He had to report at 4:45. He took a deep, steadying breath to calm himself, and got out of the car.

As he shut the car door, he looked up at the brick facade of Hadlock Park. Portland had gotten a team thirty years ago, and Ray had been coming to the stadium with his parents since he was a young boy. He didn’t remember how old he was when he had come to his first game. His mother would always bring blankets when they came to early April night games, when the temperature was still below freezing and excitement for the season was still new and overflowing within young Ray Garraty.

Back in the 70s, Hadlock Park had been the site of the local high school’s baseball diamond, but after the Sea Dogs had come to Maine, the spot was renovated into a full baseball stadium, complete with amenities- three decks of seats, a variety of food options, merchandise stores, a playground in the outfield for kids. Sure, it wasn’t as nice as newer stadiums, but for Ray it had always felt like home. And today was his first day of work there.  

Ray had agonized over applying for the job. He had seen the ad posted up on Facebook, advertising two job fairs in the middle of January. “Join our team,” it had said, and he was certainly interested. But he had let the first job fair pass him by, worrying about what his parents and friends at college would think. Ray worried about what other people thought- he always had. He wondered if he should be doing more with the summer after his sophomore year of college. His father always told him that he needed to get a good internship, so he could build his resume and get into a good graduate school program and get a good job. He worried that all of his friends at the University of Maine would be busy with internships and leave him behind.

But as the second job fair rolled around, Ray decided to go for it. Ultimately, it was his mother’s encouragement that pushed him to apply. And after the job fair and his subsequent interview, he had gotten the job. Now, with his training completed and his semester over, here he was, lining up at the employee entrance to the stadium.

As the employees entered the ballpark, they had to go through the same security measures that the fans did. First came the bag check, but Ray wasn’t carrying a bag, so he skipped this step. Next, he had to go through the metal detector. On the table next to the metal detector, there was a bowl, into which he put his keys and phone and wallet. After greeting the employee, he stepped through the metal detector.

After gathering his things, he entered the ballpark, showing his ID badge to another employee. “Thanks, sweetie,” the older woman said as he passed, and then Ray was heading down a flight of stairs, following the other employees.

Underneath the ballpark certainly was not as glamorous as the concourse above. The floors were made of concrete and the walls were exposed brick, and every couple hundred of yards a security camera watched them from the ceiling. He could see the food vendors clocking in and getting ready for work. The hallway in front of him was full of other ballpark workers- his coworkers, he realized- all heading to the employee locker rooms.

He had been here during training, of course, but on gameday it was different. Ray’s whole body thrummed with excitement, but at the same time, he felt like he was going to be sick. He didn’t know anyone here, and that thought was frightening. What if they put him in a part of the ballpark he hated? What if they assigned him a job and he didn’t know how to do it? Was it possible to get fired on his first day?

As Ray was mulling that over, he had reached the locker rooms. He first clocked in, and then made his way into the men’s locker room. There was still over thirty minutes until report time, so the locker room was fairly empty. Ray was grateful for that. He didn’t know how he could make small talk with his heart about to beat out of his chest like it was. He put his keys and wallet into his locker, and then headed to the bathroom.

He looked at himself in the mirror, and he looked pale. He splashed some cold water on his face from the faucet, and then stepped back, taking an inventory in the mirror. He had his Sea Dogs hat, his face was shaved, he had his ID badge and name tag, he had his red polo uniform shirt, he had his khakis and a black belt, he had his black shoes and black socks. In his back pocket, he had his employee handbook. Admittedly, he had been studying up on it last night, making sure he knew all the rules and procedures. Ray could do this, and he knew it.

Taking a couple more deep breaths, he left the locker room and headed to the office. There he was met with a blond man looking no more than a couple years older than him. He was wearing a black polo with the team’s logo on the right breast, and khakis. He had a green zip-up hoodie on, and Ray could see that he was wearing purple converse. “Name?”

“Ray Garraty,” he replied. “G-a-r-r-” He trailed off as the man scanned the list of names he was holding.

“Ray Garraty, you’ll be at Gate C,” he said, looking up from the list to meet Ray’s eyes. He pointed out the location on a map of the ballpark. “Oh, and here you go.” He handed Ray a piece of paper. He looked at it briefly before putting it in the back pocket of his pants.

“Sounds good,” Ray said. “Thanks.” With that, he left the office and went to the stairwell that led up to ground level. He pushed the door open and stepped outside. The sun was shining brightly, though there was still a chill in the air. It must’ve been about sixty degrees.

Some employees were already gathering, wearing the same uniform as Ray. He knew that most of these people had been working together for years. Maybe he wouldn’t fit in. It felt like the first day of school all over again.

As he walked to Gate C, Ray looked to his left and could see the field. Players were warming up, and the grounds crew was raking the infield dirt. In less than three hours, the game would begin. He was walking through a little park, with benches for fans to sit on. The park looked out over the bullpens- where the pitchers for each team would warm up- and centerfield.

Ray sat on one of the benches, pulling the piece of paper that the blond man had given him out of his pocket. It provided information about the game- the Sea Dogs’ record, the team they were playing, the pitchers, pregame events, as well as the temperature and expected attendance.

His hunch had been right, it was in the high fifties that day. There was a cool breeze, and Ray wished he had worn a long sleeve shirt under his polo. Some of the workers he’d seen so far had been wearing them.

The estimated crowd size was roughly 15,000. That wasn’t bad for a Monday. That wasn’t bad at all- the Sea Dogs hadn’t played very well this year. In fact, they hadn’t been good for quite a while.

Ray could handle 15,000. That wasn’t too overwhelming.

He looked up, and he could see workers heading past him, going to their post. He looked at his watch. It was 4:35. Ten more minutes until he had to report.

He saw a lot of people wearing red shirts like him, and some wearing white shirts. Ray knew they were the bosses. Everyone seemed to be chatting and laughing together, like they had known each other forever. There was a boy with dark hair and a scar along his cheek, who was walking closely with a blond boy. The dark-haired boy gave Ray a smile, which he awkwardly returned.

Ray’s phone buzzed, and he saw that it was a good luck text from his mother. He grinned before shoving his phone back into his pocket. With that, he stood and made his way to the gate, leaving the bright sunshine of that May day as he stepped onto the concourse.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray's first game

“Are you new?”

Ray looked up sharply as the booming voice addressed him. The voice belonged to his team leader at Gate C, who had introduced himself as Scramm. Ray nodded, struggling to find his voice. Scramm was a large, imposing man. His height and broad shoulders immediately intimidated Ray. He wondered how Scramm knew that he was new- he guessed he looked scared.

A blond man laughed as he filled up his water bottle. He was wearing a white shirt like Scramm, but he didn’t look as frightening. He was closer to Ray in height, though his muscled arms revealed that he was quite fit. “Goddamn rookies,” he snorted, shaking his head. “You scared him speechless, Scramm!”

Ray frowned, but Scramm just rolled his eyes. “Don’t pay any mind to Parker,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“My name’s Ray Garraty.”

Parker twisted the cap of his water bottle closed and left the gate, heading into the seating bowl. Ray watched him go, and then turned back to Scramm as he scanned the clipboard he was holding.

“Ray Garraty… here you are,” he mumbled to himself as he found Ray’s name on the sheet and marked down that he was indeed in attendance. “Have you ever worked the gate before?”

Ray shook his head. “No, sir. This is my first day.”

Scramm nodded. “Well, it’s a good game to start on. We’re not gonna be too busy.” Ray was relieved to hear that, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Pearson!” Scramm called, and a scrawny man in glasses looked their way. He had been chatting by the water cooler with another man who also wore glasses.

“Yeah, chief?” he asked.

“I need you to scan tickets today,” Scramm said. “I want to get Ray started on bowls, and it’ll be good to have Harkness there to teach him.”

“Tickets?” Pearson repeated. He looked uneasy. 

“Yeah, scanner’s in the cage,” Scramm replied, pointing to the metal cabinet next to the water cooler where the two men were standing.

“I haven’t done tickets in three years,” Pearson grumbled to himself, but he grabbed the scanner from the cage nonetheless. Ray felt guilty for taking his job. 

“Harkness?” Scramm called, and the other man looked up. He was shorter and stockier than Pearson, but had similar thick-rimmed glasses. “Can you run Ray through how to do bowls?”

Harkness nodded, and gestured for Ray to follow him. “So your name is Ray?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Harkness,” he introduced, holding out his hand for Ray to shake.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too. Welcome to Gate C.” With that, Harkness made a dramatic sweeping gesture with his left arm. 

The gate was divided into four lanes, separated by red bike racks. He could see the four metal detectors, with a table set up next to each of them. Beyond those were the tables where the bag checkers worked. Harkness headed over to the fourth metal detector, and Ray followed.

“Have you been to a game before?” he asked.

“Yeah, loads of times.” Gate C was actually the gate that he and his family always came through. It was the gate closest to the cheap street parking in downtown Portland. In fact, Ray had faintly remembered Scramm from games he’d been to the previous year. 

“Alright, good,” Harkness said, and gestured toward the table set up to the left of the metal detector. “You stand behind the table.” Ray immediately did as Harkness said. On the table in front of him, there were two small gray bowls. “Alright, so you’re on bowls, and I’m the traffic cop. When people come up to the metal detector, you’re gonna ask them to put their bags on the table and take all the metal out of their pockets and put it in the bowls.”

Ray nodded. “Phones, keys.” He remembered most of this from the training sessions he’d attended in March.

“Wallets if they have a lot of credit cards. Tobacco products,” Harkness added. “Basically, at this point what you’re looking for is knives and pepper spray. And what do you say to them if you find something?”

“They can either take it back to their car, or they’ll have to put it in the red bucket,” Ray answered automatically, referring to the red bucket that was underneath the table.

“ _ Surrender _ it. They’ll have to surrender it into the red bucket,” Harkness corrected. “But good job, kid. I’ll get them through the metal detector, and you’ll slide their bag and the bowl down to them.”

Ray nodded. “Okay, sounds good.”

“And I’ll be right next to you if you have any questions. I’ve been doing this for quite awhile.” Ray then looked at Harkness’s name tag. Underneath his name, it said: “Team member since 2015.” This would be his fifth year.

Ray’s own name tag said: “Rookie season.” It sent a thrill through him, but made him nervous at the same time. All these people had been working together for years, and the gate ran like a well-oiled machine. Ray felt so out of place.

“You’re in good hands,” Harkness assured, and patted Ray on the arm, just as Scramm was calling them all together.

“Circle up, guys!” he yelled, and the group of workers gravitated towards his voice. “How we all doing? I hope you guys enjoyed the time off.” The Sea Dogs were having their first home game that night after a week-long road trip. “Just a normal game today. Crowd will be around 15,000. I don’t have much else for you guys. Any questions?”

No one said anything. Ray shifted from foot to foot nervously. 

“Alright then. We open in ten minutes. Head to your posts.”

As the group dispersed, Ray followed Harkness over to the fourth metal detector. He took his place behind the table. The two bowls were on the table in front of him- he slid them around to distract his nervous mind. Although the gate wouldn’t open for another ten minutes, fans were already lining up by the bag checkers’ tables. 

Pearson took his spot standing a few spaces, fidgeting with the ticket scanner in his hand. “Aw, fuck this. I haven’t scanned tickets since Memorial Day three years ago,” he scowled.

“And  _ that _ was a nightmare,” Harkness recalled, turning around to smirk at his friend. 

“Exactly,” Pearson replied. “I mean, why’d  _ I  _ have to do tickets?”

“Because it’s Ray’s first day, and Scramm needs me to teach him how to do bowls.” 

Ray cringed at this. He felt like he was imposing. He was upsetting Pearson. He was disrupting the work dynamic that Pearson and Harkness seemed to have at the gate.

“Yeah, I get that- welcome to Gate C, by the way,” Pearson said, looking to Ray for the first time. “But like… why couldn’t  _ he _ do traffic cop, and _ I _ do bowls, and  _ you _ do tickets?”

“ _ Because… _ ” Harkness drew out the word, a teasing tone in his voice. It seemed like this was a conversation they’d had frequently. “Traffic cop is harder than bowls.”

Pearson gasped, hands going to his hips. “Take that back!”

“No way, hon,” he replied. “You know it’s true.”

Pearson spluttered. “Ray, it’s not true at all! Like, you’ll do great, but it’s not true.”

Harkness locked eyes with Ray, and mouthed, “It’s true.”

Ray laughed, nerves forgotten as he listened to the easy banter between the two of them. He told himself he’d be fine. Harkness and Pearson were there to help him out. He checked his watch- 5:29.

The line by bag check was much longer than it had been before. Most of the fans seemed to be dressed in Sea Dogs gear. Usually visiting fans didn’t make the trip up to Hadlock Park, unless they were coming from Boston or New York City. 

Suddenly from behind him, he heard Scramm shout, “Let ‘em in!”

The bag checkers began to let people in, and the sounds of zippers and chatter was heard as bags were opened. Ray schooled his face into a smile as the first fan approached him. “Hello! Bag on the table and cell phone, keys, and electronics in the bowl.” The man did as he asked, setting a drawstring bag on the table and pulling his cell phone and keys out of his pocket. 

“You can come on through, sir,” Harkness said, and the man stepped through the metal detector. As he did so, Ray examined his keys as he slid the bowl across the table. No knives, no pepper spray. Just a house key and car key. As the man gathered his things and headed to get his ticket scanned, Harkness said, “Enjoy the game.”

There was Ray’s first fan. He supposed he should have relished the moment, committing all the details to memory, but it was over so fast. He had done it. He repeated the same process with the fans to come.

Greet them, ask them to put metal objects in the bowl, looking over those objects for any prohibited items. Harkness would beckon them through the metal detector, they would collect their belongings, and then it was on to the next fan. 

Ray really was finding his groove, sliding the bowls back and forth, smiling at the fans. Until there was a lull in the crowd and Harkness asked him, “Where’s your other bowl?”

Ray looked down. He only had one bowl. The other had vanished. “I… uh, I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He was suddenly panicstricken. He had made a mistake.

Harkness shrugged. “It’s alright, I’ll grab another one once we get these fans through.” He wasn’t angry, but the knot in Ray’s stomach didn’t untangle itself. He greeted the fans, his smile much more tight-lipped than before, and did the best he could with only one bowl. He made sure to keep a close eye on it.

The crowd dwindled, and Ray relaxed, as Harkness left to retrieve another bowl for him from the cage. “Ray, you’re doing great,” he told him, and he seemed sincere. “It’s your first day, so don’t stress too much. I mean, Pearson here has been here for four years, and he’s a disaster.”

Ray chuckled as Pearson let out an indignant “Hey!”

“How many times did you have to ask Davidson for help with your scanner?” Davidson, Ray presumed, was the blond ticket taker that was working next to Pearson.

“Fuck off,” was Pearson’s only reply, and the three of them- Ray, Harkness, and Davidson- erupted into laughter. 

Once they had calmed down, Harkness asked, “Ray, what’s the time?”

He looked down at his watch. “6:35.” He was surprised- they had been doing this for over an hour. 

“Game starts in thirty minutes,” Harkness said. “We’ll get another rush at like 6:45, when the bars start clearing out, but by 7:30 it’ll be pretty dead out there.”

Ray nodded. He imagined that Harkness knew the operations of Gate C like clockwork. Five years of observing and learning trends in the crowd and mannerisms of his coworkers.

“So, are you in school, Ray?” Pearson asked. 

“Yeah, I just finished up my second year at the University of Maine,” he answered. 

“How far away is that from here?”

“Like two and a half hours.”

Harkness looked surprised. “And you came down to all the training sessions?” Ray nodded. “Wow, you’re one dedicated rookie.”

And a broke one. Taking the bus back and forth from Orono, Maine to Portland was not cheap, and Ray had spent more money than he’d earned by coming to the several training sessions required for rookies. 

He was about to say that, but a fan was approaching the metal detector. “Hello! Cellphone, keys, and electronics in the bowl please,” Ray said, and the man emptied his pockets. 

The man stepped through the metal detector, and it went off. Harkness asked, “Sir, do you have anything else in your pockets?” As the man checked his front pockets, Ray’s eyes wandered, and he could see the man’s phone in his back pocket.

“Sir?” Ray spoke, and the man looked at him. “Your phone is in your back pocket.” As soon as he said it, he panicked. That made it seem like he was looking at the guy’s butt- was he going to get in trouble? He looked to Pearson, and to Harkness, and to the man, but none of them seemed fazed. 

“Oh, sorry about that,” the man said, pulling his phone from his back pocket and setting it into the bowl.

Harkness smiled. “Now, sir, can you step back through the metal detector and come through again for me?” The man did as he was asked, and the second time he came through, the metal detector did not go off. “Enjoy the game,” Harkness said cheerily as the man gathered his things and went to get his ticket scanned.

It took Pearson several tries to get the ticket to scan, but finally, with an exasperated sigh, it scanned. “Enjoy the game!”

Harkness turned and opened his mouth to say something, but one withering glare from Pearson shut him up. He turned back to Ray and said, “Nice catch there, with the phone in the back pocket.”

Ray flushed, but it wasn’t visible in the shadows of Gate C. “Thank you.”

“You really are getting the hang of this,” Pearson supplied, and Harkness snorted.

“Yeah, unlike you with that scanner,” he replied.

Pearson gaped at him. “I try to be nice! I try to be nice and this is what you say to me?”

The three of them were laughing again. Pearson and Harkness had an easy camaraderie. Clearly they’d been friends and worked together for a long time, and they knew exactly how to push each other’s buttons, but never in a mean way. 

By this point, the game was about to start, and stragglers from the bars were heading over. “Ray, national anthem,” Harkness prompted, and Ray saw that he and everyone else at the gate had removed their hats. 

Ray mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ and bashfully removed his hat. As the anthem played, people continued to come through the gate, and Ray would ask them to empty their pockets. A blonde woman stepped up to the metal detector and put her keys and phone in his bowl. Ray studied her key ring as she stepped through the metal detector, and his eyes landed on a pen knife. Suddenly, Ray could feel his heart in his throat. “Uh.. excuse me, ma’am. I’m sorry but you can’t bring a knife into the ballpark. You’ll have to either take it back to your car or surrender it into the red bucket.”

“No problem,” the woman said, and removed the knife from the key ring and dropped it into the red bucket.

“Thank you, enjoy the game,” Ray said. 

Harkness was beaming at him. “Your first confiscated item!”

“And you got through the speech beautifully,” Pearson added. “It’s kinda wordy, but you’ll get used to it.”

“Thanks,” Ray said, grinning. “This is stupid, but I feel really proud.”

“Hey, not stupid at all,” Pearson assured him. 

Ray felt his smile soften into something more genuinely happy, and the three settled into companionable quiet as they let the straggling fans into the ballpark.

As the game progressed, Ray watched as Scramm closed down the first two lanes, sending all those workers to take their break. Then, he closed the third lane, so only Ray’s line was open. He checked his watch. It was after 8:00. 

The sky was dark by then, and he couldn’t see very many people walking on the street outside. He rolled his shoulders back, allowing himself to relax. His feet hurt, and he tried to flex them in his shoes.

“Feet bugging you?” Harkness asked.

“Yeah,” Ray replied.

“That takes awhile to get used to,” Pearson said. “We’ll be getting our break soon, and it feels nice to sit down.”

“Plus, if Scramm sends you into the bowl, you’ll get to walk around a little,” Harkness added. “It’s better than standing in one spot for so long.”

“What do you do in the bowl?” Ray asked.

“You help out the ushers in there,” Harkness replied. “Parker- he’s the team leader in there- sends you over and you just work with one of them until the game’s over. You get to watch the game too.” Ray remembered Parker from earlier, and he remembered that he hadn’t liked him. He didn’t seem like a good guy.

“Not that they’re doing too well,” Pearson said, looking behind him and straining to see the TV hung up on the wall. “I’ve got shit eyesight, but I haven’t heard too much cheering.”

Ray squinted to see the score. “It’s 5-2, them.”

“Any idea what inning?” Harkness asked.

Ray couldn’t see that closely. “No.”

Scramm walked up to them and clapped Ray on the shoulder. “Break time, Ray!” he said cheerfully. A boy called Ewing came to take his place. “Be back in 25 minutes, alright?”

Ray nodded, and left the gate.

* * *

When Ray returned from break, Scramm didn’t send him into the seating bowl. Instead, he posted him by the gate, to make sure nobody snuck into the ballpark without going through security, and to say goodnight to fans as they left.

When Harkness and Pearson had come back from their break, Scramm had sent them into the bowl right away. They had taken the steps down from Gate C to the concourse two at a time, and disappeared into the seating bowl. From where he stood by the gate, Ray could see the sea of red-clad fans, and the green of the field. He really wanted to be out there, under the bright ballpark lights, instead of in the shadows of Gate C. The concourse was by this time mostly empty. The fourth security lane was the only one still open, but no one had come through it for at least half an hour. The workers over there were mostly talking amongst themselves.

His first day had been good, but now Ray just felt drained. His feet hurt, and he flexed them in his shoes as Scramm approached him, grinning broadly. “What do you think?” he asked. “How’s the first day treating you?”

Despite his exhaustion, Ray returned the smile. “It’s been good.”

“I thought you did good.” Ray grimaced. “What? You don’t agree?”

“I mean… I  _ did  _ lose a bowl,” he answered, looking apologetic. Harkness hadn’t seemed to care, but he worried that Scramm would.  

But Scramm just laughed and clapped a hand on Ray’s shoulder. “Don’t even worry about it! Fans wander off with stuff all the time, and we’ve got plenty.” Ray was relieved. Up close, Scramm wasn’t as intimidating as Ray had previously thought. He had kind eyes. “Seriously, you did a great job. I liked having you around.”

“Well, thank you. I really enjoy it here.”

“How old are you, Ray? Are you in school?” Scramm asked, taking a step back. As a fan walked past, he bid them goodnight and to drive safe.

“I’m 20,” Ray answered. “I just finished up my second year at the University of Maine.” 

“Good on you, congrats,” he beamed. “Your parents must be real proud.”

Ray wondered how old Scramm was. Definitely older than Ray. He looked like he could be nearly 30. Then, a man approached, waving to Scramm. It was the same man in the white polo that Ray had seen earlier, with the tan face and strong arms. He remembered Scramm had called him Parker. “Hey, Collie,” Scramm said. “Be right back, Ray.”

Ray nodded, as the two men left the gate and stepped off the sidewalk into the street. The street right outside Gate C was always blocked off on game days. He watched as the two lit up cigarettes, standing close together to ward off the chilly breeze and talking amongst themselves. 

He wondered what it would be like to work with Parker in the seating bowl. Harkness and Pearson seemed to like him, but Parker hadn’t been nice to him earlier. Maybe he just didn’t like rookies. By this time it was the eighth inning, and some fans had started to leave. The Sea Dogs were behind, and a comeback win did not seem likely.

“Goodnight! Thank you for coming!” Ray called as they left. 

Soon Scramm and Parker returned from their smoke break, and Scramm started to shut down the final security lane. Parker headed back into the seating bowl. The workers from the security lane divided up and stood on either side of the gate, preparing to bid the fans goodnight as the ballpark emptied.

One of the workers who came to stand by Ray was Davidson, the ticket taker from earlier who had helped Pearson. “Hey, you’re Ray.”

“And you’re Davidson,” he answered. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” Davidson waved to a family as they left the ballpark. “Have a good night!” He focused his attention back to Ray. “How are you liking the ballpark?”

“I really like it,” he answered. “How long have you been here?”

“It’s my second year. Gate C is a good place to work. I’ve been all over the ballpark and it’s my favorite.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Davidson affirmed. “Last year I spent the month of April traveling all over the ballpark with the rest of the rookies. I put in a request to become permanent staff at Gate C after my third series here.” 

“Thanks for coming!” Ray waved to a young group of friends. They looked about his age.

“Scramm’s a good team leader. Friendly, really fair. A lot of the other places I went to, you had to deal with all these workplace politics. A lot of drama.” 

Ray nodded in understanding as Davidson spoke. “I was thinking of working a couple homestands and then applying to be permanent at wherever I liked best.”

“I see the logic there,” Davidson said. “But make sure you don’t wait too long. It’s no fun to be flex in July.” The flex staff were workers that didn’t have a permanent position at the ballpark. After every series- which usually lasted three games- they were moved to a different part of the ballpark.

“I appreciate the advice,” Ray said. And he genuinely meant it- everyone he had met at the stadium so far had been so friendly. Just then, he could see people beginning to exit the seating bowl in earnest. That could only mean that the game was over. 

“Thank you for coming!”  
“Have a good night!”

“Drive safely!”

The fans streamed past them, waving and smiling and thanking them. The thanks and the appreciation he felt brought a bigger smile to Ray’s face. The flow of fans thinned out, and Ray could see Pearson and Harkness leaving the seating bowl and making their way over to Scramm. He wrote something on his clipboard, and then they were on their way, heading back to the locker room to clock out. 

Ray stayed by the gate, with Davidson by his side, until the crowd dwindled to nothing. Scramm approached the two of them, his clipboard in hand. “Great work tonight, you guys,” he said, grinning as he wrote a mark next to each of their names on his list. “See you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Night, Scramm,” Davidson said, and he and Ray left the gate. “Damn, I can’t wait to sit down.”

Ray laughed as they threaded their way through the crowds of fans still remaining on the concourse and walked to the employee door. They took the steps down to the locker room. “Pearson told me it takes awhile to get used to it.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Davidson said. The two clocked out and gathered their things from their lockers. “Guys like him and Harkness have been doing this for five years-  _ five years. _ I go home every night and elevate my feet, but it still hurts the next day. I don’t know how they do it.”

Ray couldn’t imagine it. He had worked one day, and his feet were killing him. He and Davidson left the ballpark together, but went separate ways towards their own cars.

Ray went home that night, happy and tired. A good kind of tired.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! please leave a kudos or comment if you're enjoying so far!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ray's first and second homestands

The next morning, Ray’s feet had hurt. Davidson was right about that. As he had gone to sleep the night before, his feet had been throbbing, and now he could barely put any weight on them as he tried to get out of bed.

Despite the pain he was feeling, Ray was feeling good about the job. He finished up that first three game series at Gate C. The second game, he scanned tickets, and he didn’t enjoy it. Scanning paper tickets was one thing, but scanning tickets on people’s phone screens was next to impossible for Ray. He kept on asking Davidson for help, which he happily provided.

The third game, Ray did traffic cop. Traffic cop really was more difficult than bowls, but Ray would never say that to Pearson. Controlling the crowd was hard, and Ray didn’t think he’d done a good job, but Scramm seemed pleased with him.

When he sent him home that night, Scramm had clapped him on the back. “You fit in nicely here, Ray. I hope to see you around,” he had said as he wrote Ray’s dismissal time down on his clipboard. It meant more to Ray than he thought it would.

On Thursday, they had the day off. Ray appreciated the break. His whole body hurt. His feet throbbed and his back ached from standing for so long in one place. Three games at Hadlock Park had turned him into an old man.

When he went back in to work on Friday, it was the start of a new series. The Sea Dogs would be playing on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday before heading off for two series in the midwest. Ray knew from experience that these weekend series were when the ballpark got the most busy. He had frequently come to Friday and Saturday night games with his friends in high school. 

As Ray headed to the locker room, he already found that he recognized some people. People from Gate C, people he had seen as he took his break in the picnic area, people who had waved to Pearson and Harkness as they walked by the gate before the game had started. It felt good to know people. They didn’t know Ray now, but maybe soon they would. He wanted more than anything to find a place in the ballpark where he belonged. 

After putting his things in his locker, he went to the office, like he had on Monday. “Ray Garraty,” he said, holding up his ID badge so the man could see his name.

It was the same man from before, with the light blond hair and funny purple sneakers. He scanned the list before him, flipping through the stapled packet before he found Ray’s name. “Upper two,” the man said, and Ray left to go to his position. Upper two was on the upper deck. Section 340 to Section 380. He was excited as he took the escalator up. Upper two meant he would be an usher. 

Ray had wanted to be an usher when he first applied to work at Hadlock in January. Most of the questions in his interview had seemed to be geared towards him becoming an usher. They had asked if he was scared of heights and how he would handle disputes between fans. Ray had admittedly been a bit disappointed when he ended up at Gate C for his first series. 

But now he would be an usher. Ushers seemed to have the most fun. When he had come to games in the past, he hadn’t paid much attention to the ushers, but they had always been smiling and friendly, ready to help out. As an usher, he’d really get to feel like he was a part of Hadlock.

He wanted to wipe down seats and talk with the fans and watch the game. He wanted to feel the anticipation leading up to first pitch. He wanted to watch the sun set over downtown Portland and to feel like he really was part of putting on something special. He wanted his own section.

His assignment in upper two was not what Ray had anticipated, however. They already had all the ushers they needed, and Ray was in fact the only member of the flex staff working there for that series. So the team leader assigned him to work the escalator. He greeted people as they came up the escalator to the upper deck, pointed them in the directions of their seats, and made sure no one fell. He got a radio, in case he needed to call for first aid. 

It was a Friday, and Fridays were student nights. With a student ID, they could purchase $7 tickets in section 370 to 380. Some of them stumbled up the escalator steps, clearly already having had a couple of drinks. Ray kept his hand near the button that would stop the escalator, fearful that someone may fall. They talked to each other in loud voices, shouting and laughing uproariously. Despite the chill in the air, many of them wore short sleeves and the girl wore denim cutoff shorts. They hardly acknowledged Ray as they got off the escalator and went off to find their seats.

Ray panicked for a moment, wondering if he would see anyone he knew coming up the escalator. A lot of the people that went to his college hailed from either Portland or Bangor, and most of the people from his high school would be back in town after the end of the spring semester. It wasn’t that he was ashamed to be working at the ballpark- in fact, so far it was probably the coolest thing he’d ever done- but he felt a little embarrassed about working the escalator. 

This thought slipped out of his mind as he refocused on greeting the fans and helping them find the direction of their seats.

After two and a half hours at the escalator, the crowd thinned out and Ray was mostly alone. The chatter on the radio kept him alert- missing kids, calls for first aid, communication between the gates. A couple times he heard Scramm’s voice.

It was hard not to feel disappointed, though. There was a TV nearby playing the game, but no matter how hard Ray strained to see the screen, he had no clue what inning it was or what the score was. The team leader had come to check on him a little bit in the beginning, but Ray hadn’t seen him for awhile. 

When he looked behind him, Ray could see the skyline of downtown Portland. The sun was going down- it had disappeared behind a building. The sky above him was still a light blue, but in the distance, out over the water, it was turning a mix of pink and red and orange. The intersection of blue and pink reminded him of the cotton candy the ballpark vendors sold. Even from out here, the ballpark was beautiful.

Ray wanted to be in the seating bowl so bad, though. It felt like high school sports and being stuck on the bench when all he wanted was to be in the game with his teammates. Ray had always been the kind of person who hated to miss out. In high school, he’d beg and plead with his parents to let him go hang out with his friends, because he was afraid they’d have too much fun without him, or he wouldn’t understand any of their inside jokes the next time they were all together. In college, he’d put off studying to go hang out whenever his friends invited him. He’d gotten himself into trouble this way, but he couldn’t help that desire to be at the center of the action.

So far he hadn’t seen the field during game time. He’d only seen the stripe of green through the hallway that led out to the seating bowl when he’d been up at Gate C. He thought of Pearson and Harkness. Surely they were out in the bowl by now.

He wondered why Davidson never went out into the bowl. He wondered if he liked to stay at the gate for the entire game, or if he felt the same restlessness that Ray was feeling. It felt like hitting a wall.

The rest of the series passed in a similar fashion.

He came into work, feeling that gameday energy building and blossoming in his chest. When we walked with his coworkers to the locker room to clock in and when he headed to his post, listening to the music resounding around the ballpark as the team warmed up, he felt like his energy was too big for his body. But then his team leader would assign him to the escalator, and the rest of upper two would head into the seating bowl, and Ray would feel himself deflate.

Occasionally his team leader would come out to chat with him, and one of the ushers would come and cover for him while he took his break, but working the escalator was lonely. In the first couple of hours between the time when gates opened and the second inning, he kept busy with greeting fans and pointing them in the direction of their seats, but as the game dragged on, it grew dull.

It did, however, give him time to think. He reflected on his time at Hadlock so far. By this point, it was Sunday, and he had worked six games. He was about to finish up his first homestand. 

He thought about the advice Davidson had given him on his first day, about how it was best to find a permanent position early. About how it was no fun to be on the flex staff in July. So far, Ray really did like his job, but he hadn’t found a place that truly clicked for him yet. He wondered if he truly liked it, or if it was just the novelty of coming to work at Hadlock Park. Maybe he only liked it because it was new and cool and exciting, and after he spent some more time here and it got hot he’d be miserable. He hoped that wasn’t the case.

He wondered if he would ever find the job in the ballpark that he truly enjoyed. How did Harkness and Pearson realize that Gate C was the right place for them? How did they find out that traffic cop and bowls were what they really wanted to do? Ray supposed he should have asked them. 

During the seventh inning stretch, the escalator switched from going up to going down. The guy working at the bottom of the escalator gave him a thumbs up, and Ray started letting fans down. He guessed that the Sea Dogs were losing- he hadn’t heard many cheers, and a lot of people were lined up at his escalator to return down to the lower concourse. 

It was still early May, and even in the afternoon it could be pretty chilly. Most of the fans were wearing long pants and light jackets over their Sea Dogs gear. 

“Thank you for coming. Have a good night,” Ray said, repeating this script over and over as fans passed him to leave the upper deck. On Sundays, there were a lot of kids at the ballpark- more than any other day of the week. For most, the school year hadn’t ended yet, so there weren’t too many kids on weeknights, and on Fridays and Saturdays it was mostly adults and college kids coming out to the ballpark to drink and have a good time.

Ray spent a lot of time asking parents to take their kids off their shoulders before getting on the escalator, and telling them that their child couldn’t ride down the escalator in a stroller. Some of the kids were asleep, cradled against their parents’ chests, and some were full of energy, running circles around their parents in line and begging to stay for just a few more innings. Some of the kids waved to Ray, and he smiled and waved back to them.

It continued like that for awhile. From the bottom of the seventh inning to the time the game ended, there was a steady stream of fans leaving the upper deck. Before he knew it, the team leader and the rest of upper two were convening at the escalator, and it was time for them to go home. “Alright team, good homestand, I’ll see you back in a week.” They started down the escalator. As an afterthought, the team leader added, “And thanks, Ray.” They all talked amongst themselves as they walked to the locker room, sometimes including Ray, but oftentimes not. As Ray clocked out and walked to his car, he was hoping he’d never work in upper two again.

* * *

 

It was another week before the Sea Dogs were back in town. This time, they’d be in town for seven games, and Ray would be working seven days in a row. 

The first series was three games, and for this one Ray worked at Gate E. It was on the other side of the ballpark from Gate C. At Gate E, Ray only scanned tickets. He got a little bit better, but it was still difficult. The fans would approach him, and Ray would say, “Hey, how are you doing?” and pray they didn’t have an electronic ticket. He would scan their ticket- getting it on the first or second try if he was lucky- and he would tell them “enjoy the game!” It was a routine he fell into comfortably over the three games at Gate E.

The boy scanning tickets next to him was named Percy. He looked like he was still in high school, but his name tag said “Team member since 2017.” This was his third year, and he scanned tickets like a pro. Ray oftentimes asked him for help. They would talk a bit when the crowd lulled, but Percy was shy, and it felt a little weird to ask for advice about Hadlock from a high schooler.

After his break, he would either hang out by Gate E and scan tickets for late comers to the ballpark, or he’d be sent on smoke patrol. Smoke patrol meant he’d walk around the entirety of the lower concourse and look for people smoking. He’d then ask them to put their cigarette out and go to the smoking section. He didn’t mind smoke patrol too much. It felt good to walk around and stretch his legs after standing in one spot for so long, and he was freed from the anxiety that came with scanning tickets. As he made his loop he would walk past Gate C, and one time he could see Davidson standing by the gate, chatting with Scramm. Neither of them noticed him, but it made him feel a little lighter just to see them. 

For the next four game series, he worked at the smoking section. The smoking section was technically outside of the ballpark, and blocked off from the outside world by red bike racks. Working at the smoking section, Ray just had to stand around and make sure no one without a ticket snuck into the smoking section and walk around to make sure no one was smoking weed.

The cigarette smoke tickled his nose and made him sneeze. After each game he worked at the smoking section, he’d go home, and the smell of smoke on his clothes would scare his mother. She’d become worried and frantically interrogate him about whether he’d been smoking cigarettes. His father would be sitting in his armchair drinking a beer, saying he knew Ray would fall in with the wrong sorts, working at the ballpark. Ray didn’t even know how to begin unpacking that statement, but he’d calmly assure his mother that he hadn’t been smoking, and he’d give her a kiss on the cheek, and he’d go up to bed.

The rest of the workers at the smoking section didn’t seem to mind the smell and the smoke, or maybe they were used to it. They all stood together in a clump and talked, occasionally separating to do a loop through the smoking section and check in on the fans. Ray stood with them, listening to them talking and laughing along at their jokes. 

They had that same kind of camaraderie that he had admired in Pearson and Harkness. Maybe working at the ballpark wasn’t about finding a job you loved. Maybe it was about finding the right place and the people that made you feel at home. Working in the smoking section wasn’t anything particularly fun or glamorous, but all the core people seemed to enjoy it. Maybe they loved each other, and that’s what made them love the job.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hello I hope you enjoyed! find me on Tumblr @ pratiultimiflos


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